


Zagreus

by BkZa555



Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akechi Goro Redemption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amamiya Ren is Sassy, Best Bro Ryoji, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mostly Ren-centric, Mythology References, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Takeba Yukari/Yuuki Makoto - Freeform, Persona 5 Protagonist is from Inaba, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Personas with Personalities, Psychological Trauma, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29558220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BkZa555/pseuds/BkZa555
Summary: Zagreus (Ζαγρεύς); Underworld God of Mystery, Hunting, and Rebirth. Son of Hades and Persephone, he was torn into pieces by the Titans and reborn from the river Styx. He is also, less commonly, known as the God of Blood, of Life.Everything starts during their attempts to secure the infiltration route to Shido's Palace. One would think that being a Phantom Thief would mean that Ren couldn't have possibly been surprised by anything more, but he is proven wrong when he stares down at Death incarnate itself, who was flung back into the world of the living by the will of a certain God. A new threat looms past Yaodabaoth's shadow, and it is far more sinister than what any god could've hoped to be.[Set during November of Persona 5 Royal onward, Ren-centric except for the Prologue]
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Arisato Minato/Mochizuki Ryoji, Kujikawa Rise/Narukami Yu, Kujikawa Rise/Persona 4 Protagonist, Kujikawa Rise/Seta Souji, Mochizuki Ryoji/Persona 3 Protagonist, Mochizuki Ryoji/Yuuki Makoto
Comments: 36
Kudos: 61





	1. Prologue: In the Sea of Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So... this one is the most fun I've had drafting. I just figured out I have a knack for tackling some issues, like psychological ones... or tortures, trust issues, mythos and whatever else!
> 
> Most chapters after this one will probably be from Ren's POV, and it might or might not change later on. First chap is special, in that it's from Makoto's POV, at first... and then it would spiral from there. And also, this is an indirect continuation from **Broken Fool's Journey** , but you need not read that to understand this -- there will be plenty of time to explore it from Ren's POV later in the long run.
> 
> Also... the chapter has increasing lengths, I think, with how long my drafts are getting each and every chap, lmfao.
> 
> Update schedule will not be promised -- I cannot, for the life of me, keep a schedule with my work hours suddenly jumping up to double with my salary remaining just the same =__=, but I will try to update at least once a month, and seeing that some of my early chapters have already touched 7-8ks... I hope that will be enough XD
> 
> Also, the name of the story and some elements are shamelessly brought about from a game called Hades - I suggest you check it out! The game is awesome!
> 
> Persona series and Hades belonged to Atlus and Supergiant games, respectively!
> 
> Additional warnings will happen at the beginning of each chapter whenever there are things to be warned about, so don't worry bout it. Also don't worry about that god -- he won't reappear again for a long, long, _long_ time
> 
> Without further ado, go on and read at your own pace, and enjoy!

**_Prologue: In the Sea of Souls_ **

Sense of self is a concept that is both foreign and oddly familiar.

Stretching the body and the soul into the Great Seal gives Makoto little time for reprieve after his death. He feels nothing, hears only the soft whirs of the space as it stirs all around and inside him, sees nothing but the occasional twinkling of the distant stars, and the sensation — if it could even be called so — he often feels is akin to sinking into the endless sea of little murmurs and memories of countless souls.

Amusingly enough, he still retains the memories from when he was alive — of friends irreplaceable, of love reciprocated, of life lived to the fullest. They keep him company when nothing but the deafening dark surrounds him, when there is naught to look but the sea of stars clustered at the horizon, when there is naught to feel but the lukewarm heat that engulfs him.

Makoto still hears Ryoji, from time to time, from the distant. From around him and within him. Whispers of encouraging words to keep him company, or hums of songs that are familiar to him. He could speak not a word, but Ryoji talks all the same, as if aware that he could hear what he says. When he thinks of an answer, he would get a reply, as odd as it sounds. It is as if Fate is allowing him a little window of rest from the weariness of infinitely drowning in the Sea of Souls.

And from the Sea of Souls are those that were born from the hearts of the people; of Personas both called upon and unseen Shadows, concealed under the invisible veils of darkness and stars. He could sometimes feel something hums and stirs inside him. He isn't sure how the Sea of Souls works, and it was only from what little conversations he'd had with the residents of the Velvet Room that he knows at all that he's drowning inside it – the bottomless abyss born from all humans' hearts.

Not long – he thinks, since time is as defined as the endless expanse of stars before him, here – after his death, he thinks someone pulls something out of his soul. Pulled Orpheus away. The strums of Orpheus' lyre can no longer be felt, and he's left with emptiness that is soon filled by the sludge-like texture of the void that encases him. It feels strange, maybe even a little unsettling, but he finds the aspect of his power being drawn by someone else as worrying as it is _exciting_. Who could it have been, that drew from him the power he manifested by his fearlessness against Death?

Could it perhaps have been one of his family, his friends, his _life_ , that called for it? Or could it have been someone else entirely, a stranger that is connected to him by the strands of fate that the Nornir seems to weave in mysterious ways? Alas, all he knows is that, before it departed, Orpheus played him a song he knows not by name, but by the lyrics sang to him directly into his own exhausted soul. And one part of the words, in particular, makes him feel lighter – if such an expression could be used to describe what he's _feeling_ , without a body, floating through the vast void of space.

_Loves in your life, Live ever on. Home – is not where you live, but who cares when you're gone._

He wonders, if Orpheus knows, just how much the words ring true, just how elating and painful they are to him?

* * *

A great stretch of time later, he hears a voice, thunderous and demanding, from around him.

_You are the Universe. I see now, that Fate is as cruel to you as it is fair._

He frowns – or, something of the like, seeing that he's nothing but the lingering consciousness deep inside the sea of countless souls – at the mention of the Universe. He knows not who it is, or why the voice could reach him. But, he supposes, since Ryoji's whispers could be heard from time to time, that it is not as far-fetch as he thinks it is. And, since the Sea of Souls is where he drew the many masks that are Personas from, he thinks… this one might be just that – a part of a person's psyche, stands ready to be called upon.

As if it has heard his inquiry, the voice speaks again, a little softer, like the rumbling of the lightning cloud after a fierce storm. _I am Izanagi, the God of Lightning. Let me ask this of you; what stirs you to make such a sacrifice, what drives you towards this height of absolute power? What allows you to reach the deepest part of the Sea, where few could even hope to steal a glance from?_

He ponders on the many questions this one asked. And then, he wills his thoughts to focus on forming words that might allow him to reply to the whispered inquiry. _I want to protect the bonds I've made, the people I love. I think… without them, without my friends, I wouldn't have been able to achieve this miracle._

 _Interesting,_ he hears the voice, Izanagi, hums. There is a pause of silence, where nothing but the constant hum of the endless macrocosm could be felt, where Makoto isn't quite certain just what he should think of next. After what feels like not as long as before Orpheus was stripped away from him, Izanagi hums again, the feeling of the sound no more than mere whispers, soothing, soft, unlike the thunderous barks or the rumbles from before. _Is this existence… torturous?_

He doesn't think so. It is strange, neither painful nor painless, neither joyous nor excruciating. It is a simple existence that leaves him wishing to return and feel things like he used to, but not so much that he would wish to relinquish the making of the Seal just to escape from it. It's like… walking in between the line of life and death, of light and dark, where nothing is bound by the rules of the universe, but is shackled by the unspoken decree of the Fate.

 _Fate is a fickle thing,_ Izanagi voices, and for the first time in forever, he could _see –_ the visage of a king of steel, sitting on the throne of swords and lightning, yellow eyes boring into his nonexistent ones. When he does take in the image before him, the voice continues, from around and within, like always. _It creates gods and monsters, yet it weaves the threads to aid those that would fight against those deities, against the very existences it has given birth to._

He isn't quite used to the concept of Fate, but Igor often speaks of it, as the beaten path that he is destined to take since the day he was born. Yet, Fate can sometimes be changed, like how he prevented Shinjirou's death from ever coming to pass, like how he forced himself to live after being shot and beaten and broken, when he should've fallen and died.

Yet again, Izanagi speaks, legs crossed, the long sword-spear hanging from the emptiness beside his form, his fingers curling slightly. _And here you are, as Fate would have it. Sacrificed like a lamb, to give the world a chance, to stop the Darkness from ever reaching Death, to stop Mankind from seeking their own demise by the countless, hidden desires for salvation through destruction. Fate is indeed a cruel and unforgiving master, like the biting cold of winter, like the searing heat of the sun._

He isn't sure what to make of it. But, even if Fate hadn't dictated him to do so, he would have created the Great Seal again anyway, since the duty of becoming the barrier between Erebus and Nyx is not something he would allow anyone else to do. He had lived a good life, no matter how brief – and to give it all up to become the gate that stops the Fall is something he would choose to do again and again, even without Fate's wicked influence.

A chuckle, low, echoes and bounces around the invisible walls of his boundless prison. _I see now, why you are the one who gains the approval of the Universe. You fought against inevitable Fate, but when Fate decreed upon you to relinquish your life for it in order to protect people that are both dear and strangers, you did so without a doubt. Sink further now, my boy, and you may yet find the one who stands above even the Thread Weaver. I have little doubt we shall meet again, no matter how long it may be._

He's then left in the dark once more.

* * *

The endless whispers of both good and evil, of murderers and kingmakers, of saviors and destroyers, is driving his mind into the brink of insanity.

Indeed, such would be the case, where no voices could be subdued, no thoughts could be guarded against, no agonizing screams or cries of orders could be stifled. Figuratively, being here has allowed him to see it all – the darkness within one's souls, the brightness of hope and humility. Both sides of the spectrums are clashing and whirling, mixing into the pools of tar-like sludge within his soul, where maddening thoughts are turned into crazed roars that ricochet inside him endlessly.

He is thankful, for Ryoji's voice that is anchoring him to what he would call the isle of sanity, where he could _think_ and retain the sense of self, where he could still remember soft words and kind embraces that used to be with him. Sometimes, he would hear the low rumbling that sounds like the masks he used to wear – like the Personas he used to call, that would drive away the devouring lunacy that often threatens to swallow whole his already shattered soul.

Sometimes, it would be Kohryu, the gentle dragon that growls and rumbles all around him, curling around his ethereal body, giving him intangible warmth that soothes his soul. Sometimes, it would be the Sisters of Fate – the Norns – that would conjure up the breeze in the windless void to pacify his raging mind. Sometimes, it would be the devil – Lucifer – with his great wingspans that keeps him under his protection and gives him a little chance of free thoughts.

After a few cycles of insane laughter and comforting hums of the Personas, he hears Ryoji again, his voice perhaps a little… _strained_ , is the best word he could come up with. Like always, it echoes and bounces around and inside him. _Makoto, are you alright?_

 _Alright_ is a term that couldn't be used to describe his state any longer. He doesn't even have a tangible, material body to begin with. He could neither be alright nor in great agony as is. But, as far as the remnants of his memories and his sense of self go, he supposes such word could still be applied. So he wills his mind to think, loud enough for Ryoji to hear. _I think so_.

There is a pause, where only the low buzzing of the space fills the windless void, before Ryoji speaks again, a little pensive, perhaps. _I see… I'm sorry, for not being of much help. I… don't know what else I could've done, except for…_

 _It's alright,_ he thinks. _You are here, sometimes. That is enough to keep me grounded – even if there is no such thing as **ground** here in this void._

A fond chuckle. _That is true. Well, I am here now. Let me keep you company for as long as I'm able._

He would've smiled if such thing is possible, but he settles for letting his soul lets out a reverberating hum that echoes softly into the abyss. He is then left with little but his thoughts and the ever presence whispers of numerous wandering souls that occupy and make this very Sea. After a moment – a moment he is no longer certain takes how much time in the real world, since time has lost its regularity and linearity a long while ago – he asks. _Why are you still here with me?_

 _Why can't I be?_ comes the immediate reply that he gets, his voice filled with mirth. There is another moment of silence, before his voice dances into his soul again, softer, this time. _I owe you everything. And you are important to me, so I want to be here. You gave me a part of you, Makoto. Finding you in the abyss is actually easier than you might think. But wading through so many voices and souls is a bit of work, so when I lost you, it'd take me a while to find you again._

That… actually explains the occasional absence of his voice. Then, what he said really strikes him – find him _again?_ He's lost Ryoji's voices more times than he cares to count, but to keep hearing him over and over means – _So, you keep seeking me out, over and over? Just to stay by my side?_

 _It's the least I could do for you, after all the pain I've caused,_ Ryoji voices sadly. There is a small sigh before he continues. _You've given me much already. This is the least I could've done, for your sake. Besides, I have all eternity here, and not a single thing to do. Even if there are things to keep me distracted, finding you is still my priority._

He wants to laugh, he really does, at the absurdity of his reasonings. Ryoji had done _nothing_ wrong; he didn't have a choice when he became what he is, when he was created as Nyx Avatar. Yet, despite the circumstances, he didn't embrace his role entirely – he helped them, gave them information, gave _him_ the push he needed to carry out the miracle that allowed him to mold his soul into the Great Seal.

Instead, he settles for what he could – a few words, communicated through the corridor between their souls created by the bond that they share. _You know, Ryoji, if I was a girl, that would've made me head over heels for you. Flirtiness really **is** in your nature, even like this._

 _Oh, shut up,_ He could imagine a pout on Ryoji's face as he thinks – or says, or _whatever_ – that line. But then, his voice softens ever so slightly. _I'm trying to find a way to free you – without breaking the Seal, of course, since that would defy who and what you are – but I'm stuck. I want to at least pull you out of here, to at least save you from going insane. You would, eventually, sooner or later._

There is a grim truth not so hidden in those words, and Makoto knows this best. Even the temporary reprieves he would get from the Personas he used to wear and call for won't be enough to push back the waves of insanity that would creep ever closer. He knows this, and he's afraid – afraid of losing his loves for his friends (and of a certain girl in pink), afraid of forgetting what made him. If those ever happened—

 _Makoto,_ Ryoji calls again, pulling him out from the musing he's having. He focuses on his voice as they bounce inside him again, gently. _I'll try my best to help you. I'll keep finding you, wherever you are. So, don't give in, okay? I promise, I'll try to pull you out of there. You deserve better than this. You should have had a better fate than this._

 _I'll hold you onto that,_ He replies, before letting his consciousness drifts back into the bottomless pits of the abyss.

* * *

A great while later, where the drones of the endless void has already settled in, another voice stirs him, this time as carefree as it is cautious.

_The Universe! Why, such audacity, as to reach so far into the Sea of Souls!_

He still couldn't see a thing, but feels the strange pull, like strands of webs, of curses hissed and whispered into his mind. The feeling soon fades away, and he hears laughter of a trickster, joyous, rebellious, as the sounds of fluttering wings fills the void in his being. Makoto thinks he hears the familiar voice of Ryoji reaching him, more curious than furious, and the new voice quickly swats him away.

 _No wonder you are favored by the Universe itself! Such heroism, such bravery, as to face the absolute Death and defy it! Such a pity that Fate would fling you into this endless void, with countless, meaningless voices buzzing around you like insignificant insects!_ The voice rumbles with enthusiasm, like a collector finding a new artifact of great worth, or perhaps of a child gifted a new toy. The voice then says, just a little softer. _Ah! Pardon my rudeness. How uncivilized of me! I am Arsene, or Raoul, if you would prefer. The great Phantom Thief, at your service!_

Unlike Izanagi, with the bearings of a king and an emperor, this… Arsene seems a character of a deceiver, of someone who takes great pleasure in deceptions and rebellions. He would have blinked twice, had he the eyelids to do so. Instead, he just lets the hum resonates through the great void that stirs around and beyond him, signaling that indeed, he has heard that.

 _Not a talkative one, I see,_ Arsene hums, seemingly amused. Then, much like with Izanagi, he could _see_ more than just glittering starts at the edge of his visions – a gentleman thief, with face and horns like the devil himself, wings of rebellion adorning his back. He bows, the everlasting grin widening just a little more. _But I understand. Retaining your sense of self at all, this deep in the Sea of Souls, where both virtues and malice brew and mix together, is already an impressive feat in and of itself. I wonder – do you perhaps have someone to keep you company?_

 _I do,_ He decides to answer, seeing no point in lying. He has learned by now, through the time he has spent drowning and sinking deeper and deeper in here, that _every_ Personas are connected. It would be of no surprise to him that this Arsene would already have known about an existence that is tied to him in ways that couldn't be severed. _His name is Mochizuki Ryoji… although, he is better known as Nyx Avatar._

There is a pause, before a surprised hum escapes Arsene. The thief then rears back and laughs, the sound thundering inside him. _Nyx Avatar! You mean Thanatos, that God of Death? No wonder I see him around so often! That strange creature is tied to you, then! Marvelous! To think you befriend even **Death** , boy! I am very pleased with this information!_

He isn't even sure how this Arsene could've pieced together that Ryoji is Thanatos in the first place, but he is more surprised by what it said – that he is _seen_ in the Sea of Souls, probably looking for him and staying by his side, even when he couldn't see or feel him through any means except for the low hums that would accompany his arrival – hums that sounds like soft whistles of the clarinet. He's pleasantly taken aback by the knowledge of the extend in which his Death would go for him. He'll ask Ryoji about this later, whenever next they meet… if he still retains his sanity, that is.

 _You see,_ Arsene begins again, drawing his attention to him. _I am about to sign a contract with a rebel, a trickster, of a kind. I've seen Wild Cards come and go, but none are quite like you. This one, too – he is strong, both heart and soul, although he doesn't come close to what you are, what you were. But Fate dictates that you are to remain here for an eternity, the time that would strip you of who you are, that would turn you into no more than dusts floating in this dim Sea, being swallowed whole by the expanding darkness. Yet, your Death still tirelessly searches for a way to rescue you from such a grim fate. Many have tried, I have seen so – but none have succeeded. I wonder – would he be able to do so? Or would a miracle be no more than mere past achievement of yours, now?_

 _It doesn't matter,_ he responds, resolutely. It doesn't matter if he was to lose his sense of self, sooner or later. If it's inevitable, then so be it. And, much like before, it doesn't mean that he would allow such thing to come to pass without putting up a fight. _I will still fight. It's what I know how to do best. And having hope is not such a bad thing, is it?_

 _…Interesting, boy,_ Arsene hums. Then, he approaches where he — who is but a speck of consciousness that has nothing akin to a body to speak of — is. _Perhaps you would be able to hold out, after all. There is a single entity that is capable of granting you such miracle, that could make happen what we deem an impossibility. You have called once a miracle no one thought possible through your bonds. Who is to say that something of that nature won't occur again, with the bond you have between you and your Death?_

 _What do you mean?_ He decides to ask, more curious than hopeful. He would hope for it to happen, of course, since he doesn't want to lose the memories of his precious ones, but he is no longer afraid of it. _What do you mean, by an entity that would grant me a miracle of that scale?_

 _It is but a speculation. The High One cannot be fathomed, not by you, not by us. But, if he takes interest in you, then perhaps… Ah! But that is just a speculation! I've wasted too much time talking nonsense with you, boy! Let us return to what I originally intend to inquire you!_ The Persona dances gleefully, taking up all of his field of visions. _If you would allow me to, of course._

 _I do,_ He replies. He has nothing better to do — not that he could, in the first place — right now, anyways, and a talk with a Persona that would sign a contract with another Wild Card could prove interesting and entertaining on its own.

 _Wild Cards all draw their powers from this place, from this Sea of Souls. I've seen you interacted with many strong ones before. If you're given the chance to wind back time itself, would you still sign the contract and fight, knowing that one day, you would end just like this? In a state where oblivion is your final destination?_ Arsene asks, its voice curious. Even a bit sympathetic, if he is to be honest.

The question, fortunately, is something he could readily answer without so much as a thought. _I will, no matter how painful it is, or how much it hurts. They are important to me._

_Even if they have already forgotten about you?_

_Even then,_ he replies firmly.

There is a long beat of nothingness, where Arsene puts his slender fingers on his chin, the perpetual grin on his visage shifting just slightly, no longer as delighted as moments prior. Then, he snaps his fingers once before pointing at him, or where his sense of self, is. _We shall meet again, of that I am certain. But when, or how, that is beyond me. Keep your wits with you, boy. If you lost your mind to this ceaseless flow of insignificant souls first, then it's all over._

He isn't given the chance to reply when Arsene melts into the void, returning the maddening darkness back to his senses once more.

* * *

It isn't long after that when a change happens.

He _sees_ a hand, with the cross-strapped wristwatch — unmistakably Ryoji's — reaching out in his direction, and then he _feels_ his _wrist_ , that should've been no more than soups of shadows, being grasped by fingers, cold like ice, but gentle. He's overwhelmed — the very sense of being touched by a tangible body has long since become foreign to him, at this point, where time lost its continuity, where whispers lost their meanings, where the incessant buzzes of souls are inescapable.

He is then _pulled_ — he isn't sure, it's been _eons_ since he's felt anything remotely _human_ — upwards, and the next sensation he feels is fire in the middle of his _chest_ and the dampness and the tingles on his _limbs_. He then _breathes_ in the stale, rancid air that makes him coughs and coughs until everything that's blurred is focusing themselves back into shapes.

"Makoto!" Ryoji thinks, or says, or — whatever, but the voice is not from everywhere, but from a _direction_ , right by his side. Then, hands — hands on his should be ethereal arms and shoulders, touching, soothing, cold and hot at the same time. "I've got you! I've got you!"

"I'm pleasantly surprised to see that the thief and the kingpin decided to aid you in your search, Death," A foreign voice calls from behind him, he thinks, as his hands remain on the invisible _floor_ that he could feel but not see. "I've seen this boy for quite some time now. To actually meet him with a material body is… somewhat of an astonishment. You are younger, and perhaps more broken, than I thought you would be, for a Wild Card that could tap into the powers from the endless well of the Universe."

He blinks — he could blink, and _see_ , that under his hand are the stars, like diamond dusts and aurora veils and _beauty_ beyond what he could describe. Numerous swirling dots of light are melded into galaxies of many shapes and colours, scattering across the endless canvas of space. He then breathes once, twice, before looking up—

"Ryo… ji…?" He says — he can _speak_ and he has a _voice_ , not just a thought floating in the dark anymore. But he could bear uttering no more than a few words before the fire returns to his core, and he's gasping again, for — something. Air, he thinks.

"Shh, take it easy, take it easy," Ryoji says, firm hands steadying him. He then sees the boy shifts his head up, looking at something behind him. "I still can't believe it. That there's someone who could do this. The rumours are true, then? That you…"

"What? You Personas can spread _rumours_ , now?" The voice barks out a laughter, delighted. "But then again, you were all born from the Sea of Souls. You are all born from humans. Being like humans should've been a given, should it not?"

"I… guess so," Ryoji murmurs, seemingly distracted, his cold hand placed on Makoto's heaving chest as he tries to make head and tail out of things. His hands then find what he thinks to be Ryoji's shirt and grab it, as a confirmation that he now has a _body_ , perhaps. "When you were drowning in the Sea of Souls, I… found someone, at the very bottom. That's where we are — at the deepest pits of the Sea. This is where, uh, _he_ resides."

"Let the boy centre himself a moment, Death," The voice says, amused. Makoto looks to the side, still too dazed and too pained to look _up_ , to see orbs of dim but warm light lingering around the place. He could faintly hear excited whispers of languages unknown, and could see the shifting and flickering images of man-like creatures and beasts from heaven and hell. Then he sees someone comes into his field of view, very much human-like, with brown trench coat and mahogany vest, a gentle smile and grayed-out hair and beard. "We're at where the souls are the most powerful. He will need time to adjust."

He feels Ryoji nods as his cold hands keep Makoto up. He could see and feel droplets of black water dripping from his hair and his body, scarred beyond repair. He then glances at his right hand, shot open from that day during the Dark Hour, where he manages to save Shinjirou from Takaya, with blackened, warped skin and crooked fingers. He's… "I… I'm the… same?"

"Not quite _same_ , my boy," The old man chuckles. "Your _body_ , so to speak, is created from your own memories. This is the state you last remember yourself as. And I must say, you're thoroughly trampled and broken, body and soul. I could only imagine the pain you have to go through."

He only shakes his head, unsure of what to think or say, instead clutching onto the fabric under his fingers like a lifeline, his body _cold_ , the lukewarm heat from before has long since gone. After another set of quickened breaths, he tries to — do something. Sit up, or stand, or whatever, but he finds himself lacking any sort of strength, and he falls right into Ryoji's waiting arms. The other boy then pats his back lightly, in reassurance, before he murmurs. "Take your time, Makoto. No need to rush."

He nods again, leaning his head against his Death's surprisingly toned chest. A few more breaths, and he murmurs. "What… happened…?"

"He found me, your Death," The old man says, and he turns his head enough to see a smile. It is only then does he realizes that the man's sclera is _pitch black_ , like the void, his irises as red as blood. The man then smiles wider, and before long his eyes are all but concealed under his lids. "But of course, I only help those I deem interesting _and_ worthy enough. You, fortunately, are both! You are the first from the Sea of Souls I'll be more than willing to form a Pact with, you see."

"…Pact?" He repeats, eyes turning back to Ryoji, his face pale and his eyes wide.

"You said nothing about a contract!" Ryoji quickly protests, holding his form just a little tighter. He still couldn't move much, but he shifts his head a little, to take a better look at the man.

"Of course I have not, since I hadn't intended to form the Pact with you to begin with, Death," The man laughs, kneeling down beside him, his smile directed at Makoto. "You see, my boy, equivalent exchange is the key to everything in the universe. I intend not to just pull you out of the Sea — and directly saving you from being consumed by madness — but also giving you _both_ a chance to walk in the world of the living again! I won't be ordering you to do something that goes against your beings, of course. I am not so much of a sadist as the Fate, as to force you against your wish."

A second chance to… live? For the both of them? It seems too good to be true, even if it's possible. He turns to look at Ryoji, who's giving him an expression that's a mixed of pain, worry, and _hope_. Makoto knows he doesn't mind staying dead forever, but — he wants to give Ryoji a chance to live, too, since his previous life had been written into stone, forcing him to relinquish his humanity just to become the dreaded Avatar of Death.

So, he breathes, before murmuring. "…What… about… the Seal…?

"Cautious, I see," The man hums, amused. "But, very well. Worry not about the Seal, I shan't allow it to break. The end of the world would make for a dull and colourless ending, and such is not my taste. This is the Pact, where you are bound to me, to do as I say. Of course, I'll not ask you to kill a person or something of that nature. It is not me to force people's hands. But I do need someone, from time to time, to help regulate the world from becoming _too_ chaotic."

"Regulate… the world…?"

"Ah, I apologize, I have not spoken to both of you about this yet," The man bows, and his smiles widen, more sinister, more… nerve-wrecking. "I am what some people called the High One, but I'm more commonly known by my name. I am Chaos, the All Father, the first Primordial God to ever exists."

He isn't sure what the man speaks of, but Ryoji _knows_ — he tenses almost instantly, and his arms are tighter around his still drenched frame. Then, Ryoji hisses, his voice low and threatening. "I don't care who you are, but I won't allow you to put him through any more pain. If you do, I'll _kill_ you."

A chuckle. "How bold of you, to challenge the Original Primordial. But then again, this just makes all of this even more interesting. Rest assured, I do not intend to bring you both back to the earth just to plunge you back into the abyss, no. That would be boring, would it not?"

Ryoji scoots back, and draws him closer to his chest still. Makoto couldn't quite see much, but he knows under his skin that, while the man's words are warped with indecipherable goals, they're the _truth_. So, he pulls at Ryoji's shirt a little, and the other boy glances down at him, confused. He groans, still not used to physical exertions or the strains of talking, and murmurs. "He's… telling… the truth…"

"Makoto…?"

"Your intuition is much shaper than what I've originally thought, my boy," The man hums, seemingly satisfied, the murmurs of light and souls floating around them a bit softer. "Why would I mince words, when I could just force you to do my biddings at a snap of my fingers? But that would be boorish and dull. So, I extend my offer to you, Yuuki Makoto — not just a chance to live, but a chance to stop the uncontrolled chaos from expanding. The Pacts of Punishments are reserved only for those I've deemed interesting enough, and you are the first in a while, my boy. Are you ready?"

He isn't sure of what would transpire, should he be bound to this _Pact of Punishment_ , but… what he knows, deep in his soul, is that this is the only way that would allow him to give Ryoji a chance to live to the fullest, to enjoy life that he's only had a few weeks' worth to live. Still, words from a God is not something to be believed at face value. "Not… yet… I want… to know… more…"

"Ah, did I forget to mention, boy?" He says with a grin, and suddenly, he's thrown back, Ryoji kneeling between him and Chaos. But the man doesn't flinch, only smiling a little wider. "I am giving neither of you a choice."

Searing pain rips through the back of his left hand, and he could see a mark of some sort, a ship's wheel-like mark with ridges and sharp edges, being _burnt_ into his skin. He looks up, to see Ryoji's terrified face, and the old man's _wicked_ grin.

"You are now bound to me. Now go out there and live, boy. There's still a long road ahead of you yet."

And with that, all he could feel is the rapidly expanding darkness that engulfs him whole.


	2. Death's Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Thieves go back to secure the route to the Treasure, only to be stopped on their way out by a familiar face... and by something that is far stranger than what Ren's ever seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! I'm back! Take a bit of time to polish, but it's all well and good! Maybe some typos left tho so I apologize in advance for that!
> 
> Ahem! Anyways, don't let me keep you, enjoy!

**_Death's Arrival_ **

**_November 26th, 2016 [Saturday]_ **

Ren is, unfortunately, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Not like it's the first, per se, but he still doesn't enjoy the feeling of helplessness.

He was beaten and drugged, the physical pain is always accompanied by the mental weariness against the harsh words and the empty lies. Luckily enough, he has friends he could lean on, so for now, the repercussions of being tortured are still minimal.

But sleep doesn't come as easily as it used to, and even if it does, he would end up bolting awake on his own bed, sweating. It has been less than a week since he first returned here (returned _home_ ), but the dreams and the memories are starting to become haunting, making him as listless as he is exhausted. Not to mention that everything itches, and he could do nothing but to scratch at the newly-forming scars to quell it.

Today, he wakes up a little earlier than he had set his alarm to, with Morgana purring worriedly up at him from his lap. He only smiles, patting the not-cat's head lightly. He then glances towards his phone, the clock reading three and a half in the afternoon. He should've been at school right now, but he's dead to the world — he can't return, not yet, not until Shido's brought down from his throne.

He sighs. "Sorry, Morgana. Did I wake you?"

"No," He says, pawing at Ren's hand until he puts it under Morgana's feet. "Are you sure you're okay, Ren? Makoto thinks you should visit a psychiatrist for this."

"I've talked with Takemi-san," He says, reaching for a bottle and popping out of it a pill. "I have medication for it now, and I have you guys with me. I'll be alright."

"…Just, don't keep things to yourself, okay?" Morgana murmurs, patting his hand with his soft paw. "We're here for you, Ren."

He smiles. "I know."

He decides to go about showering and brushing his teeth, his broken ribs and his injuries from before can still be felt. He grumbles a little as he puts on his cloth and returns to the bed, with Morgana beside him, his hand being hogged under the black fur and the snow-white paws.

He lets himself relaxes and closes his eyes, his other hand absently patting at the not-cat's back. He smiles; Morgana is right, he has friends with him, friends who would help him through the darkest times. He'll be alright, he's sure.

He takes his time just mulling over things, biding the time for the clock to tick the hours away. And before long, he hears the bells of Leblanc rings, and the sounds of footsteps approaching them.

"Ren-kun," A voice calls, and he looks up to see Makoto walking up the stairs to the attic, her smile slight and strained. He only gives her a small nod, his hand absently patting Morgana's black fur, eliciting a mewl or two out of him. When he doesn't move away from the bed, the Priestess walks over, reluctant. When she reaches them, she sits down beside him and murmurs, "Are you okay?"

"… _Okay_ would be a stretch," He mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. Morgana looks up at him, but he only gives the cat another reassuring smile. "But I'm managing, somehow. I… feel a little strange, however."

"How so?" She questions, tilting her head slightly, a hand careful on his shoulder, calming him down somewhat.

He takes a moment to formulate a response; not long after they found a way to enter Shido's Palace, he could feel Arsene humming in contemplation deep within him. No words are spoken, but it feels like the thief is… pleasantly surprised, and perhaps shivering with _anticipation_ , of something inside the Palace. Not a Shadow, or even another Persona User, but of something else entirely.

"I… I don't know how to put this, but Arsene has been… a little on the edge and a little… happy, ever since we secured the entry route into Shido's Palace," He says, drawing both Makoto's and Morgana's gazes to him. He looks up at the dust-filled ceiling and frowns a little more. "Not about a Shadow or a Persona User, but about… hm, something else entirely?"

"…Should that be worrying?" Morgana asks, head nuzzling his hand lightly.

"I'm not sure," He says, honest, leaning his head slightly against his clenched fists. "But it should not be so much as a hindrance for us. We'll go into the Palace again today. We're almost done with securing the route, after all."

"Don't push yourself too hard, okay?" Makoto murmurs, a hand patting his matted hair lightly, carefully, always so kind. She has been his most stalwart mental support, even amongst the Thieves, thus far. "We still have a little breathing room. Taking a step back every now and then is imperative."

"Alright," He hums, exhaling and closing his eyes. "Two more letters of recommendation, and the route to the Treasure should be secured."

"Mhm."

"That should be doable within today."

Makoto pauses at that, and frowns at him.

"Do I have to remind you just how much you seem to be hurting _every time_ you take a hit?" She asks, and when he doesn't respond, she quickly jabs his side — right into his still broken ribs, making him yelps and hunches down with a hiss. "This, exactly."

" _Senpai_ , could you hit _harder?_ " He mutters under his breath, making extra sure to emphasize on the word Senpai as he forces himself to evening out his ragged pants as he tries to reduce the pain. Makoto seems a little apologetic (and also a little annoyed), so he just smiles. "But… thanks, for worrying. I'll be fine, don't worry. I have friends that look out for me better than I for myself, so everything is going to be okay."

She pauses, looking at him for a while, before sighing quietly. "You know, you're really bull-headed at times. No wonder you make an excellent Leader. But you're making us worry ourselves to death here."

He chuckles lightly. "Sorry."

Morgana curls up on his lap, and draws his hand back to his head. He hums, scratching his ear lightly, while Makoto keeps patting his shoulder and his hair (like a mother, Ren muses), keeping his mind somewhat off the discomfort and the pain. He hums, content, as he relaxes his shoulders.

It takes the others a few moments later to arrive at the attics, and by then, he's already a bit more awake and less in pain, fingers rubbing at his eyes lightly. When they all gather around, they all remain silent, waiting for his orders.

"Today, we're going to finish acquiring the rest of the letters. And, while we're at it — Futaba?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to try to look for something—" He pauses, frowning a little. He isn't even sure what kind of _thing_ he (or Arsene, if he's to be precise) wants to look for. But then, as if sensing his question, Arsene hums from deep inside his chest, and the words enter his mind without so much as being heard. He then recites them exactly as they are. "—For something that is Shadow-like, that's unusually strong, in there."

"Shadow- _like?_ " She stresses the last word. "What do you mean by Shadow-like? What you're looking for isn't a Shadow?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not sure myself, but Arsene insists. He says… that its Arcana is _Death_ , and that was that."

Futaba contemplates on this information for a while before nodding slowly. "I'll try, but I don't guarantee the results, Ren. Although, Death… should be easy to find, since we see so little of them inside any Palace anyways. No false alarm to worry about."

"True," He hums, lightly scratching at his leg. "Well then, everyone… let's do this."

* * *

The air in the Palace is unusually stale, even by Ren's standard.

There are Shadows, true, but they seem… tense, even _afraid_ , of something. When he gets caught by one, it just… looks his way, before looking around and running with tail between its legs. Not all of them act this way, which makes it even more suspicious. But it makes his venture towards the remaining letters easier, so he counts his blessing and moves on.

Oracle's scans can never pinpoint what is wrong, exactly, but there have been trails of darkness and curses and half-dead Shadows scattered in some areas, particularly in the outermost hallways. And the destruction has been pretty thorough — some of the Shadows are left _alive_ , that is true, but a poke of a knife is enough to kill them. Fox thinks whatever lay waste to these monsters are powerful; maybe even _Ren's_ rival, or perhaps stronger.

He decides to dwell on it later while also avoiding any trails of deaths along the way. So, with a sigh, he orders the others forward, to find the IT company president.

…Who, it turns out, ticks Oracle off so much that it's actually kind of hilarious.

After his long, painful monologue about manipulating the information for their people's own gain, Oracle just drops her act altogether (not that he could really blame her), and soon they're face to face with the Shadow, who's ready to fight against them.

Or so he thought.

"You! Are you the ones who bring _that thing_ here!?" The president growls, backing away, not transforming just yet. Ren pauses, looking at the others, who's giving him myriads of confused expressions. "You've been laying _waste_ to our outer defences for the past two days! _What_ did you do!?"

"…Laying… waste…?" He repeats slowly. "What thing are you talking about?"

Before the president could say anything, there's a bestial roar coming from afar, echoing through the halls and the steels, ricocheting endlessly until they're surrounded by it. Fierce, demanding, and _in pain_. Ren frowns, then glances at the president who, much to his surprise, is shoving a recommendation letter into his hand before he runs off.

"Wait—!" Skull begins, but he stops him with a raised hand.

"Don't bother, Skull. He's gone," Queen supplies, walking up to him and taking a looking at the genuine article of a recommendation letter. Ren shoves it into his coat then looks up, focusing briefly on the sound of thunderous bellow. "Is that perhaps the thing the president was talking about?"

"Possibly," He nods, and as if to confirm his suspicions, Arsene hums in the pit of his soul. He frowns a little deeper, this time. "He even gave us the letter without so much as a fight after hearing that roar, so I guess that might've been the Shadow-like that Arsene mentioned."

"If this entity fought against the Shadows of this place, is it perhaps our ally?" Fox says, a finger on his chin, thoughtful. "If so, recruiting it might be a better play for us in the long run."

"We won't know for sure until we meet the thing," Ren murmurs. "Oracle, can you pinpoint its location?"

A pause, then she shakes her head. "Unfortunately, no. I can't seem to pick apart any particularly strong signals. At least, not from here."

"Then, we continue with our search. One letter remains, ladies, gentlemen."

He pushes the feeling of restlessness away, fully aware of what it is. All he could do now is getting ready for whatever is going to happen.

* * *

The _Cleaner_ doesn't care diddly squat about the mysterious entity that's been terrorizing the place.

He _knows_ about it, that is for certain. While Fox's drawing the best tattoo he could've conjured in the spur of the moment, there's a roar again, from further away, this time. He glances at the Cleaner, who just smirks at him. "You hear that, boy? That thing's been making my _cleaning jobs_ a living hell. I wonder what it's aiming for, rampaging around the ship like this."

"I thought it was with you," Ren decides to say, relaxing his stance as to not seem on guard, enough to pull the Cleaner's tongue a little looser.

"Of course not. I don't have anyone under me that hit like a freight train like that," He says with a grin, as if amused, his hands on his hips. "I thought that thing might be _your_ ally."

"Uh, no, we're not even sure what it even is," Queen mutters, a finger on her chin, contemplating. "What happened?"

"Oh, y'know, this and that," The Cleaner drawls, his grin lop-sided, as he waves his hands about. "The thing came outta nowhere and did a number on the left wing of the ship, at first. Almost flattened me, even. Looks weird for a monster, though, and pretty intimidating, with crooked mask and coffins for wings and all that."

"Coffins for wings…?" Ren repeats, frowning slightly. That sounds as ominous as it could get, not to mention the occasional beast-like roar and the fact that, due to this man and the IT company president's words, it nearly levelled the Palace by itself.

"Yeah, like Death incarnate, or something."

And this, the voice inside him laughs, and before long Arsene's amused and delighted hum is echoing inside his mind, sending shiver of anticipation that is not his, and dread that definitely belongs to _him_ , down his spine. _Delightful! He is here, Trickster! Death is right here with us! Find him. You need to find him!_

He frowns deeper at that. Arsene is _never_ talkative with him, at least, not like this. But now, it seems like he _wants_ to find this mysterious entity, and _knows_ just what the thing is, exactly. He decides to murmur to himself, asking his own mask for information he needs, information that Arsene decides to keep from him.

"What is this thing? Why do you want me to even _find_ it? Do you want to indirectly kill me or something?"

Laughter rings through his mind, and he steps back slightly, waving for Noir and Queen to take his place. When he has a bit of a distance from the Cleaner, he hears Arsene says with a flair fitting for the King of Thieves. _Of course not! I am Thou, and Thou art I! Why would I want for my other self to perish? I do not amuse myself in the suffering of the just and the innocent, my boy. Only that of the wicked and the cruel._

"Uh-huh," He mumbles, but smiles slightly. He knows what Arsene said is the truth, even if he is a little… mad? Insane? Unhinged? "Yeah, you're right. But still, you _have_ to answer my question, man. What's the deal with this _Death_ that you seek?"

 _An interesting specimen,_ Arsene muses, but he sounds a little… worried, Ren thinks. _He's a good person at heart, as terrifying as he may be. But what irks me is the fact that he's somehow been separated from his other half. We must find him first, and then… only then will I tell you more._

"You're _unbelievable,_ " Ren mutters under his breath, but nods resolutely. "But if you think it— _he_ is of any worth and not a danger to my friends, then we'll find him for you."

_Much appreciated, Trickster. And… keep this from Igor and the Twin Wardens. Do not let them know of this Death, of Thanatos, just yet._

He pauses a little at the name, _Thanatos_. Sounds like a Persona, but strange on his tongue. Arsene gives him no other chance to continue his pursuit, as he hears sounds of handclaps, and Arsene's presence is back into the deepest corner of his soul, waiting to be called upon when asked.

He sighs as he turns to face the Cleaner, then glances at Fox as he continues to brandish his brush against the white canvas, conjuring up what Ren thinks looks like a phoenix… he _hopes_. Because he doesn't want to get into a fight with this one, thanks.

After an eternity and a half, Fox finishes, his drawing garnering the approval of the Cleaner, who asks for Fox to become his tattoo artist. Ren tries to grab Fox's tail and tell him to just pretend to accept it. But he knows Fox better than this; he is an artist with pride, after all. So he sighs when Fox immediately refuses, and a fight breaks out right then and there.

"Do you know the word _pretend_ , Fox?" Ren grumbles, a hand on his mask, flame dancing across the edge. He shuffles through his Personas and lands himself at no other than Arsene, who readily answers to his call.

"I do know what the word means, Joker. But I refuse to bow down and put my artistic soul to shame!" Fox declares, striking what Ren thinks is a… pose? "I shall not allow anyone to trample on my art as he pleases like so!"

He sighs. "You're unbelievable. But I guess that's why Noir likes you."

At this, he hears a grenade going off, and sees Noir _decapitating_ a Shadow with her axe, her face beet red. She then stutters. "H-h-how did you know—?"

"It's pretty obvious, Noir," Panther giggles as she whips one of the demons into shape, then engulfs it in a high column of searing heat. "The only ones who'd be blinded to this is Skull and Fox himself!"

"Hey! I _know_ she likes him!" Skull retorts while hitting a flying fireball hard, sending it back to the demon and hitting it right between the eyes. "Home-run!"

"If even _Skull_ can tell, then I can say that you are pretty obvious, Noir," Ren chuckles, carefully ordering Arsene to keep his distance, wings ready to spread and fly.

"What are you all talking about?" Fox inquires. "I do not think that anyone here dislikes me, am I wrong?"

"Jesus, Inari, you're _dumb_ ," Oracle hisses.

"What is the meaning of that?"

"Guys!" Queen's sharp, exasperated voice cut through their banters. "Please focus on the task at hands first? And please leave Noir a breathing room. Any more than this and she's going to burst into flame."

Ren chuckles, fingers absently rubbing at the wound on his arm, scratching it. "Roger that."

* * *

With the Cleaner defeated and the last letter in hand, Ren decides to call it a day.

But, as Fate would have it, their trek back outside through the engine room gives him a chance encounter with someone he'd call a friend, who seems so lost in the idea of _revenge_.

"Long time no see."

Ren turns to the man in question, his red mask retaining the luster it once has, his expression partially concealed, yet it is clear to him that there is both relief and anger in his dark red eyes. Ren puts his hand up to stop the other Thieves from attacking right away (sentimentality and all that), and he smiles slightly despite the situation before murmuring. "Been awhile since you put a bullet in my head, Akechi."

The man snorts, arms crossed, as he leans back in his stance slightly, carefree. "You said that, yet here you are, alive and well. I must congratulate you, though, for managing to deceive me."

"It's not like I could manage it alone, or anything," Ren says quietly, eyes glancing to the side as he watches his friends' reactions. They're hiding their disgusts, but all of them also have a little _empathy_ for this boy, too. He's glad they all agree with him. "Without these guys, I would've been dead."

"You say that, but it's you yourself who come up with the plan, no?" He says, shaking his head slightly. There is both mirth and annoyance dancing in his eyes, which remain locked onto his, unflinching. "You truly are interesting… Quiet, yet possessing the courage and determination to take actions."

He stays silent, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. Arsene stirs inside him, ready to lash and claw, but he stops him with a hand to his chest. He believes that Akechi is just like him, and perhaps, had they met a bit earlier, or in a different circumstance, things could've worked out much better than this.

From all the conversations and the subtle expressions that he's had with and seen from him, Ren knows, almost at an instinctual level, that Akechi is a good person warped by the corruption of the system. And, Akechi confirms his suspicions with the next sentence. "Under different circumstances, we could have been great rivals… or perhaps even friends."

It pains him to see the darkness of the world taking its roots so deep and so thoroughly. He wants to save this boy, he really does, but he isn't sure just _words_ are going to work. Still, he has to try, because rebelling against the injustice in this world is what he's destined to do. So, he wears his best mask, the Joker, and grins, forcing himself to relax slightly. "Aren't we already friends, though?"

Whatever Akechi was expecting, it certainly isn't what he had just said. He doesn't laugh, he doesn't lash out, he just… blinks stupidly a few times, eyes narrowing. Then, his voice rips out between his teeth, like poison rotting the air around him. "You must be _joking_ , you damn clown. Friends? I was just using you in my investigations, and you were simply enabling me, were you not?"

"I genuinely enjoy my time with you," He says quietly, taking a step closer. Akechi's immediate response to his advance is to back away. Ren pauses. "I consider you a _friend_ still, Akechi. A very close friend."

At this, he pauses, before bursting out laughing. At the irony of his words, perhaps… or at himself. "Hah! How wonderful… you don't allow yourself to be enslaved by human relations or past selves. That is perhaps why your heart is always free, unlike mine…"

"We were just born into different circumstances, is all," Ren says. "I can't say I know about what you have to go through, but… if I had been in your shoes, I might have already given up a long time ago. You still haven't, right? It's not too late, Akechi. You don't have to fight us."

He only sighs. "I wonder why we couldn't have met a few years earlier… Amamiya."

"It's still not too late to turn back," He tries to reason, but Akechi will not have it.

Ren opts to stay silent as Akechi unveils his true purpose; that he is Shido's bastard son, that he wants nothing more than to put the bullet between the man's eyes, that he would go to great lengths to exact his revenge on the man who wronged him. Ren understands that; he _is_ the rebel, after all. Wanting to get back at the man who wronged you is something he would do, too, even if his methods are different from what Akechi had planned.

He's consumed by fury and hatred that he's seeing nothing else, hearing no one's calls. He's locking his cries for help deep within his own heart, silenced it with a gun, as he trudges forward into hellfire in order to carry out what he had set out to do. Commendable determination, but it will destroy him, and Ren can't have that. Deep down, they both are the same – someone wronged by the system. Someone beaten down by those who would manipulate their powers for their own selfish gains.

Ren breathes, Arsene's voice ringing inside his head, contemplative. _He's unhinged. He's gone mad, and his hands are stained. Are you certain you're willing to risk it all to save him?_

 _Yes,_ he answers, without a second thought, without doubt. Even like this, even when he's smiling madly, his dark red eyes crazed, there's _pain_ behind them. He's desperate, and Ren wants to save him, because that's what _friends_ do. _He is just like me. If I had been in his shoes, who'd know what I would've done? I want to save him; with all that I've got._

 _Very well. I have heeded your resolve,_ Arsene laughs as flame dances from his mask, and from the blaze of blue comes the original thief, with his ever-laughing visage and the midnight wings. _I shall lend you my aid, boy. Whether he lives or dies now depends on you._

He nods, before steeling himself. The others try to join in as Akechi sends the other Shadows berserk, but he puts up a hand to stop them. Panther's looking his way, and he only gives her a smile. "Joker…?"

"Take care of the Shadows for me," He says quietly, his hands cold as anxiety crawls down to his fingertips. He then turns back to Akechi, and points his blade at him. "You and me, Akechi. We're going to settle this, once and for all." _I'm going to save you, whether you want to be saved or not._

The others are reluctant, but then they nod. Skull pats his back lightly before muttering. "Then we'll leave him to you, Joker. Good luck."

"…Thanks."

Despite his attempt to sabotage the Thieves earlier, Akechi seems to let the others do whatever they want with the Shadows this time. Soon, they're standing opposite from each other, silent, alone. But words are unnecessary; right now, all they can do is fight, and whoever comes out on top will be able to do whatever they want.

Arsene laughs a little as he hovers behind Ren, his dark, slender fingers moving just slightly, drawing little lines of red and black, of curses and darkness, in the air. Akechi seems to contemplate on something, but he only grins as he calls for Robin Hood, which is _not_ what he had just used to cause those monsters to go berserk before.

And then, they clash.

Being left-handed makes Ren a little uncomfortable, his southpaw stance matching all too well with his right-sided one, dagger and blade clashing and sending sparks into the air. Arsene and Robin Hood, too, are exchanging blows – or rather, not so much blows but _blessings and curses_ , darkness and light curling around each other, contrasting, _complimenting_ each other like light and shadow, yin and yang.

But Ren knows that this is not who Akechi truly is. The goody-two-shoes is nothing but an act, and Ren will _drag_ his true self out of the darkness and beat the living shit out of it. That's what Akechi needs, right at this moment – a proper, unrelenting thrashing that would make him _see_ that there's yet chance for him to change, even if there's blood on his hands, even if he's done things absolutely _unforgivable_.

He flips over Akechi as the other thrusts his blade, and nicks the boy on the cheek just below his blood-red eyes. The man grins, maddened, licking the descending blood as he waves Ren forward, enticing him to continue his assault. And assault he does, with his hand grabbing onto the scruff of the other's neck, knife pointing at his throat, creating a thin line of red as he, in turn, counters with a rapier jab to his leg, drawing a long, shallow gash on his calf.

He then _headbutts_ Akechi, causing Arsene to laugh delightfully, and making the culprit flinches through the shear suddenness of the act. He then reaches to grab his wrist as he falls backward, and pulls him up to his feet, only to smash the hilt of his blade on his solar plexus. Akechi doubles over, and when Ren reaches for a finishing blow, Akechi swings up into a skyward strike, glancing his chest and barely missing his face.

"Not bad, Joker," Akechi _grins_ , and his smile – they're not _fake_. This time, it is _real_ , and this is the genuine Akechi Goro that he has grown to love.

"Same goes for you," He grins back, making a point of brandishing his blade tauntingly. "Come on, man, this all you got?"

"Of course not," The other boy bares his teeth, primal instinct taking over. "I'm going to show you the real me this time, Joker! Don't die just yet, not until I show you just how much better I am against some attic-trash with shitty _friends_ like you!"

 _Just how much envious I am of you and your bonds_.

Those aren't the words Akechi has spoken, but Ren knows that they're his true wish. Deep down, he wants to have friends, too. And Ren knows that Akechi's also _afraid_ of bonds, because bonds have never been kind to him. They're cruel and ruthless and twisted and _vile_ , and Ren will do everything to make him see that the bonds that they share are _real_ , that Akechi is his _friend_.

Akechi calls for that vile power again, and black envelops him as his laughter rings into the engine room. He sees Queen and Morgana looking back at him, but he shakes his head; he will succeed, and they will _not_ get in his way, no matter who they are. He points at them, signalling that they are _not_ to interfere, before he turns back to the laughing Akechi, now donning black mask—

—Like what Madarame, Kaneshiro and Okumura had told them.

He could hear some gasps from the others, but choose to ignore it as Arsene returns to his side. Akechi then smirks before turning his mask into his original — no, his _other_ Persona, his other self, much like Ren's _Wild Card_ power. The horns and the blade and the arrogant stance as it sits in the air, its chin on its curled hand, is just like what he'd expect of Akechi. The boy grins, and the name slips through his mouth like poison. " _Loki_."

 _If you're going to do this, then I'll stay by you, my boy,_ Arsene whispers into his ear as he unfurls his wings, black feathers adorning with dark flames of the curses he always wears like badges of honor. _Now come, let us show this cur what we're capable of!_

"Yeah!" He shouts. One strike, one exchange of blow, and he will end this.

Akechi seems to share his sentiment, as Loki pulls its searing blade backward, as if preparing for a single strike that would either win him all or lose it all. Ren stands up straight, a hand on his face as his mask no longer exists, as Arsene draws the power from deep within his Sea of Souls, from his endless possibility, from his unbreakable bonds.

And then, their darkness collide.

* * *

He walks over to the kneeling Akechi, the man himself spent and exhausted to the bone, his mask half-shattered, his smile softening slightly.

"I won," He says quietly, and glances sideways to see the others returning to him. It seems like their fights were over a while back, but they've stayed true to his order and simply kept watch as he duked it out with his best friend (his greatest rival) and settled their differences through fistfight.

Akechi laughs, his breath slightly ragged. Probably some broken ribs, judging from the way he clutches his flank tightly as the laughter rumbles through his being. After a moment, the man looks up at him, his eyes _freer_ than ever before. "You won."

He waits for a moment, eyes gauging the man's expressions. Skull then says from the side, arms crossed over his chest. "You've had enough?"

"I know," He whispers, subdued and quiet. He then eyes Ren then speaks wistfully. "I know. You're so lucky, Amamiya… to be surrounded by friends and teammates who acknowledges you. And once Shido confesses his crimes, you'll all be heroes. As for me? People will find out what kind of atrocities I've been doing, that all my deductions were simply charade. Everything I've built will vanish."

"…Turning people psychotic, then solving the cases yourself," Ren mutters quietly, pushing the mask off his face. He doesn't want to talk to Akechi as _Joker_ , this time, but as _Amamiya Ren_ , a friend, a rival. "And you did that by joining forces with Shido."

A self-deprecating laughter. "In the end, I couldn't be _special_."

Skull half-rolls his eyes. "Dude, you're _more_ than special, y'know?"

Akechi looks up.

Queen continues, half torn between admiration and annoyance. "It pains me to admit, but your wit and strength far exceeds ours. Well, not exceeding Joker's, but he has that power through his bonds with us, while you have no one. You're strong, Akechi-kun… and I'm honestly envious, if I'm going to be honest. It is frustrating, to see just how much my sister trusted you."

He glances to Noir as the girl speaks softly. "I have no intention of forgiving you for what you did to my father, but I sympathize with you. I wholeheartedly understand wanting to get back at all those people who've wronged you. The thoughts have crossed my mind, too, sometimes."

"But when you gained the power to fulfil that desire," Fox says, his voice low. Ren doesn't stop him – Akechi doesn't need just reassuring words, but the _truth_ that he had a choice, but chose to go down this path on his own, too. He has to face his own mistakes, if he's going to have a chance to redeem himself. "You only used it for your own self-benefit."

"If you have the ability to use multiple Personas, you probably have the same talents as Joker – the power to turn bonds into strengths. But because you went through life alone, the power you awakened to was fuelled by lies and hatred," Oracle mutters. "Still, you thought that was enough. And that part, I totally get."

"You excelled at _everything_ over us, but one," Fox says.

Akechi is looking at him, his eyes _knowing_. He has already realized their difference, it seems.

"…Friends, huh…?" He murmurs, looking down at his hand. Ren glances at the other, asking for approval with a silent gaze. They seem reluctant, but ultimately nod. Each and every one of them agrees with him, this time; that he, too, could've turned out the way Akechi has, had it not been for them here, by his side.

"Alright! Let's get that Calling Card ready!" Skull says, then turns to Akechi. "Dude, we're gonna be taking Shit-do down, what yer gonna do?"

Panther seems a bit reluctant, but since they all have the same mind on how to do this, he nods as a reassurance. She inhales once. "It'd be a problem if you kept getting in our way, so… wanna come along and help us settle things?"

This time, Akechi seems absolutely stupefied by that sentence. Ren concurs; the people he had just tried to kill are offering him a spot in their team still. But there's something more in his eyes, something that Ren knows all too well – _hope_. But the boy bites back the first thing that comes to mind, and says with his logic instead of his heart. "Are you all _idiots?_ You should just get rid of me—"

"—Nuh-uh, not happening," Ren says with a chuckle as he walks over. Then, he holds out a hand to the boy, while the other just looks at him idiotically. "Come on up. We're still _friends_ , even if the word is a bit of a stretch. But we can always start over, correcting things. You're not alone, Akechi. Not anymore."

"…You all are truly beyond my comprehension," Akechi chuckles slightly. "Especially you, Amamiya."

"…Ren."

"Huh?"

"Call me Ren… _Goro_ ," He smirks. Truthfully, he has been referring to the Thieves by their first names for a while, now. But he has never gotten to call Akechi by one, even when they are _so close_. And since he _thinks_ he knows Akechi enough, and that he considers him a friend – a very close, very dear friend – then he'll extend this offer to him, too. "All my close friends call me that."

"…Hah," Akechi laughs, before reaching out and grabbing onto his hand. "Alright… _Ren_."

Before he could pull _Goro_ to his feet, however, someone _claps_ their hands. And when Ren looks up, he sees _cognitive Goro_ there, followed by _battalions_ of Shadows. And soon, they're completely and utterly _surrounded_.

The cognitive Goro pulls out its gun, then points at the real Goro, who pulls his hand off Ren's (no, don't run now. He's right here, ready to help, Goro) and turns to face the Shadow. It then says flatly. "Captain Shido's orders… He has no need for _losers_. Well, this just moves up the plan a little. He was just going to get rid of you after the elections, anyway."

"What?" Goro growls, disbelief clear in his tone.

The cognition shakes its head. "Did you truly believe you'll be spared after all the things you undertook? Don't tell me… were you actually feeling good, having someone _relying_ on you for once?" And then, it smirks, "By the way; the captain said it's time to receive _retribution_ for causing the mental shutdowns."

They played him; Ren realizes. He is seen as nothing more than a _tool_ , and that causes anger to bubble inside his chest like boiling water, and Arsene is hissing, having felt the same fury he's feeling right now.

Surprisingly, Skull speaks up, furious. "What the _hell_ , man!? That bastard's the one who put him up to it! If anyone's gonna be getting any _retribution_ , then it's _him_ , not Akechi!"

Goro then shakily stands up and pushes Ren away a little, his smile so _kind_ , so broken. Ren's breath catches in his throat as Goro laughs. "I see…"

He could barely contain himself as the cognitive Goro drones on and on and _on_ about how useless he is, how he is nothing more than a tool that would soon be discarded, even if he's Shido own _son_. The only thing stopping him from doing anything is the Shadows looming before him, eyes blood red, ready to lash out, ready to tear through them.

His team, too; the anger radiating from them is palpable and _suffocating_. He could feel Queen clenching her fists as she growls out between her teeth, at how messed up all of this is, at how painful it is to even _know_ that Goro has been so wronged like this. It shouldn't have been so; he is just a _kid_. He's Ren's age, for fuck's sake. He shouldn't be seen as _tools_ as discarded like some _trash—_

He must've failed to notice what they were saying, because next he knows, Goro is pointing a gun at him as the cognitive Shadow eggs him on.

But he knows, from the look in his eyes, that it's not _Ren_ who he's going to shoot.

Then, he says with a smile. "…Goodbye… Ren."

"No—!"

He reaches for Goro as he shoots the Shadow, and then aims at the emergency button at the side. He has to stop, or he'll be trapping himself in with the Shadows, and he won't survive with those injuries—

_I refuse to lose a friend like this!_

As if hearing his silent wish, _something_ tears through the Shadows and stops Goro cold in his track.

Ren looks up as darkness swirls around and _rips_ the lives right out of the Shadows, turning them into nothing but dusts. The sarcophagi shift on its back, forming into a half-circle, its visage is of hollow eyes and steel and black cloak of despair. The jagged blade is lodged into the floor as it descends and stands just behind the detective, its _breaths_ guttural and animalistic.

He looks behind it, to see that in the span of a few seconds from being somewhere else to standing there in all its unearthly glory, it has _ripped_ and torn everything it its path that has not been claimed by the darkness to shreds. And then, Arsene laughs as he appears without Ren's consent.

Understanding dawns on him as he breathes the word Arsene sends directly into his mind, causing his soul to quake in _fear_ of the manifestation of Mankind's most dreaded existent—

" _Death_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An explosive way to introduce oneself, that's for sure ;)
> 
> See you next chapter, folks!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it!


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